Leliana's Mercy
by Twisted Eternal Wolvetta
Summary: [Set in a chaotic/depressive world state]. After the events of Haven, a fire was kindled. What was this fiery sensation which she couldn't fathom? Of Orlesian, and Ferelden origin, this flame flickered within the darkness. It guided the Inquisitor, supported her. But who was it who soothed her? It was her Spymaster, Leliana. [Collab with Harmonium-Kruger]
1. Looming Motive

_**by Twisted Eternal Wolvetta**_

 _ **and Harmonium-Kruger**_

* * *

 **To see what Mercia** **Trevelyan looks like, you'll find the link on Twisted Eternal Wolvetta's profile.**

* * *

The driving snow buried crystal just beneath her eyelids; Blinding until they melted to burn. Had the storm been brought on by that creature, or by utter chance? Was it a blessing, or a curse? Too many things to consider on a dying breath, Mercia felt chilled to the bone.

The fire sites she had passed were dead, not even an ember or two left. Nothing had been left to warm her, and her hand ached with a dull flame.

With her mark having almost been stolen from her, it had pulsed the whole way. The tension within her veins felt like her blood was on fire. Yet still she felt frozen within this snowstorm.

But at least she had given everyone a head start. Right…? Surely?

They had sent up the flare, they must be safe. When she brought the mountain down atop of Haven, she wasn't sure she would survive. Was it relief or disappointment she felt when she woke? Even she wasn't sure.

But for now, she needed to find them. All she needed was to know they were safe; Know they had survived, thanks to her.

If not, then what? She may have slowed the red templars, Corypheus, and archdemon down. But who is to say such a thing would slow them down at all?

Trees were thick around her, their bark having been stripped by the winds. There was a clearing, one she dared not even hope led to them. The snow was to her knees, and it was becoming harder and harder to trudge through it. The mark could barely flicker to life, and she crumpled to her knees with a shuddering breath.

The slope was far too steep for her. It was barely even 10˚, and she found such a thing bitterly funny. Upon the last of her energy, she caught sight of something- a light? Amongst the snow, she couldn't be sure.

" _It's her!"_ A man called out, Cullen? Dare she hope they even made it? It was far more likely it was a rogue templar-

" _Thank the Maker…"_ There was no mistaking the seeker's accent, however. Mercia slumped further, the black edges around her vision closing in. All was clouded, and if this was death, she welcomed it with hope for the others.

Before the human Herald was even aware of it, she had tumbled into the snow. Not a second had passed, and she found herself unconscious.

* * *

 **Leliana's Mercy**

 **Looming Motive**

* * *

Warmth. This was the first sensation which greeted Mercia. For a time, her eyes remained closed, happily oblivious to her environment.

Was she alive? Was this hell? Heaven? She had no answer to give herself, and she felt no urge to discover it.

It was still dark; light flickering to and fro that reminded her of a fire. Torches? Perhaps even a roaring bonfire? Mercia slowly opened her eyes, startled at the crooked face of a crow perched atop her. It squawked once it noticed her awake, returning to its post by the spymaster.

Leliana…? She had lived? Who else?

From her position on her back, she could see very little. She could barely make the figures of Cassandra, Cullen, and Josephine. Were they arguing? At a time like this?

Allowing her head to lower back down into the pillows, she sighed heavily.

"Are they bothering you?" A soulful voice from her bedside startled her, but she calmed. It was only the revered mother Giselle, looking apologetic.

"They seem like they've been at it for hours." Mercia spoke, not surprised to find her voice weak and hoarse.

"A luxury granted by you." The elder woman chuckled softly, peering after the spymaster's crow. "I think someone may want your attention before you're pulled into the arguments, however."

The spymaster did? Glancing towards the redhead's tent, she couldn't see her. All Mercia could assume, was that the elder was praying. For how many minutes did she pray? Every time Mercia came across her, she was doing just that.

Another squawk sounded from the crow, and it ruffled its feathers. The fidgeting from the bird was halted, a hand resting atop its head. Feeling the burn of eyes against her, Leliana turned her head towards Mercia.

The two of them set eyes upon each other, and an awkwardness entered the Herald's chest.

Had the spymaster sent her crow to spy on her? To know when she had woken up? Mercia was helped to sit up by Giselle, settling a hand onto her stomach. Her ribs were flaring, but she was certain there were no broken bones.

"Should I ask that she come to you?" The elder woman seemed adamant on doing so either way, helping Mercia only to sit comfortably. Giselle lifted a hand, beckoning Leliana over.

With light rattling from the woman's chainmail, the Herald suddenly felt anxious. She didn't understand Leliana at all. Maybe this was why she felt so out of touch with the spymaster?

The revered mother stood to leave them alone, nodding to Mercia. The noble woman held onto her stomach still, noting that her back was also sore. From the hit against the trebuchet, to tumbling into the shack… She wouldn't be surprised if there was deeper damage.

Wounds she had sustained in the past had been much worse at times. So she would easily heal from this. At least she _hoped_ she would.

Keeping her arm loosely hooked around her middle, she watched Leliana make a stand beside her. Tilting her head back slightly, she regarded the hooded redhead. What precisely was she supposed to say? She couldn't just ask the spymaster how she was.

In such a situation, the answer was obvious.

"Was that bird to spy on me?" Her voice was still weak, barely above the sound of the fire. The crow in question squawked indignantly, forcing a wheezing chuckle from Mercia.

The spymaster smiled, but for only a moment. Above the distant sound of arguing, Leliana spoke. "You're unsure of that?" Formally, if not through habit, she clasped her hands behind her.

"Not anymore." Mercia's lips quirked into a faint smile that quickly fell. "People have seen to me, right? I feel… terrible even still."

"We cannot do anything for your sore ribs, I'm afraid. Even if broken, all you can do is wait." Leliana replied, sighing as she lowered herself to speak more privately. "Why did you do it?"

Do what? Mercia frowned, pushing away brunette strands of hair. The redheaded woman was knelt beside her, watching her expectantly. Why she more or less sacrificed herself? Wasn't it obvious? Or did Leliana simply want to know personally?

"Why?" Mercia glanced towards the others still arguing, giving another soft wheezing chuckle. "So that Josephine could indulge in another frosted cake, or so Cassandra can cut down another wave of enemies like she was slicing bread. So Cullen can sulk away from everyone, and so you could pray to the Maker, even while doubting."

She took a breath, putting more pressure on her side. "You have all sacrificed something in some way… If I could give my life to save you, I wouldn't hesitate."

Only a few months had past, yet she had bonded with them solidly. But within such circumstances such as these, it wasn't surprising. They had to, else the Inquisition would've collapsed within hours.

Returning her attention to Leliana, Mercia's brows perked. The spymaster seemed genuinely surprised, as though she had not been expecting such a selfless answer. "You… You're easily the most important figure in this Inquisition. Why would you do that?"

"I've said why, I believe." Mercia's lips twitched, though Leliana shook her head.

"No, I think you're lying."

Why would she think this? The Herald watched her closely, unsure. Her expression wrinkled in confusion, studying Leliana. "I'm considered important by many. But if my sacrifice pushes the Inquisition forward, then so be it."

Leliana's brows furrowed as her gaze set sternly. "That is a dangerous attitude to have." She finally countered, hands resting atop the edge of the cot Mercia sat upon.

"It may be, but only dangerous to me." The noble rebutted, cocking a brow up. She had heard things, from the gossip within Haven to even remarks in Val Royeaux… "Is this about the Hero of-"

Maybe what followed had silenced the camp. Mercia wasn't sure, but her cheek stung. Her head pushed to the side, she remained in this position. Blinking, she watched the spymaster lift, and turn away. Having missed the expression cast along Leliana's features, she remained silent.

Instead, she unconsciously brought a hand to her cheek, watching her closely.

"Leliana? Did you just… strike the Herald?" Cassandra's voice was thick with disbelief. The spymaster threw a glare towards the table, top lip curling.

"Oh, shut up Cassandra." She bit, returning towards her tent. The tension in the air was palpable, but at least the arguing had ceased.

Mercia rubbed at her cheek, seeming less surprised than the other advisors. Josephine approached in an apologetic huff, offering a hot drink. "Forgive our ignorance, Lady Trevelyan… Is there something the matter?" Her dark eyes flickered between Mercia and Leliana.

"Gossip is unbecoming of a lady." Mercia teased weakly, accepting the drink to nurse between her hands. Josephine colored, sputtering to no doubt apologize before the younger woman chuckled. "I may have overstepped a boundary. I don't dare to repeat it."

But still. Mercia _had_ heard certain stories about the Warden. But who could say they were true? Such a reaction from the spymaster fueled her suspicions however. Exactly _what_ had this supposed Hero of Ferelden done?

Of course she had ended the Fifth Blight. But what had…-

"Ambassador. I'm surprised to see you don't have that checkboard of yours. Not even a candle?" Mercia's lips twitched upwards. It lightened the mood, if only a little.

"I'm afraid I wasn't able to save it." Josephine appreciated the subject change, relaxing considerably. "I am sure I will get another, perhaps one decorated with strokes of viridian?" It seemed as though the Antivan woman was hinting, and Mercia smiled softly.

"I'll make sure to remember."

Trying to push the spymaster from her mind, the Herald continued. "So what am I needed for this time?" She sighed, rolling her eyes. "We shouldn't be arguing at a time like this. Not with so much at stake."

Cullen cautiously arrived, making a stand beside the Antivan. "We wouldn't be arguing at all if it wasn't for-" He cut himself off, giving a side-glance towards Leliana. He continued, his voice lower. "If it wasn't for the spymaster. She drew her agents back, and the attack was utterly by surprise."

Mercia heard a faint ringing in her ears, one brow quirking high. "Lady Montilyet, will you give me a hand?" She asked, struggling to stand even with Josephine's help. The Herald softly thanked the elder woman, then swung a punch to the former templar's jaw. As Cullen stumbled back to eventually fall, Mercia fell onto her cot from the exertion of energy upon the blow.

Cassandra stormed forward, stepping over Cullen to make sure the Free Marcher was fine.

"Herald-" Cassandra accused, only to be interrupted.

"No." Mercia grumbled, watching Cullen clasp a palm to his bruised jaw. "No one's at fault here. Only Corypheus and his red templars." Shooting a glance down to Cullen who rose, she awkwardly glanced back up to them.

"I quite agree." Josephine glared sharply to Cullen, her fellow advisor furrowing his brow. He slunk away, muttering under his breath. Cassandra huffed, taking a kneeling position by Mercia's bedside.

Leliana had heard, and watched the scene. Her brows pulled tight together; the spymaster worrying her fingers on an opposite glove. Just what was this 'Herald's' game?

Staring down at the left corner of her tent, she became lost in thought. Past events far too painful circulated her mind. For such a situation as this, what would they do? It felt far too similar to- she shook her head.

No. Leliana heard the conversation outside die down, and she lowered her hood. Perhaps she should… apologise? Though this seemed far too weak.

She had no reason to slap Mercia. Yet even still, the noble woman defended her. Perhaps she was… simply selfless with nothing to want or gain. It was clear that Mercia was _nothing_ like…

Leliana closed her eyes, shutting those thoughts away. She would apologize at a later time. Mother Giselle had started to sing to calm their nerves, others joining in. Mercia kept at her cot, supported by both Josephine and Cassandra.

The Herald seemed to find the singing amusing, reeling in her expression to not be found rude. Her eyes kept towards Leliana, however. It was clear where her attention was.

It was unsettling.

She should make an effort to distance herself, Leliana mused. She… did not desire to be hurt again. No, she wasn't about to allow herself to trust somebody so easily again. Not after such a thing.

"Maker." She muttered under her breath, edging towards the corner.

"You should rest, Herald." Josephine jabbed gently. With a refusal added to injury, the Antivan huffed. " _Sleep!_ "

"Do not make us knock you out." Cassandra warned, though smirked faintly at Josephine's glance. "Do not make _me_ knock you out."

"Much better. Herald, you need to rest and recover your strength. You can barely stand!" The Ambassador reminded, gently pressing against Mercia's shoulder.

Almost protesting further, the younger woman sighed. "I suppose…"

What else was she to do? She couldn't exactly do anything, and given their situation… Exhaling sharply, and regretting the notion, she winced.

"Perhaps we can find something to ease your hurts?" Josephine had saved the hot tea from earlier, returning it to the Herald's hands. Mercia chuckled, lifting the cup to her lips. She could barely even do that…

Cassandra hummed, eyes roaming among who all had survived. "Maybe Madame de Fer knows a spell or two our healers do not?"

"If she does, I might kiss her." Mercia sighed, resting her head against the pillows.

"Y-you would?" Josephine inquired, a flush setting against her cheeks.

"Figure of speech, Ambassador." The Herald snickered under her breath.

* * *

Skyhold was for the most part, messy. Even such a word as this wasn't enough to describe it. The place was in absolute chaos, and would take months, if not years to tidy. Years they didn't have however. Mercia wasn't even sure if they had months, let alone _days._

But such a fort- a miniature castle, even. It was so heavily fortified, and even within the mountains. It was a rival to Castle Redcliffe, if not a few tiers higher.

Mercia was able to recover much quicker in a bed; The grand Orlesian thing no doubt bought by Josephine. It could have fit her, the ambassador, Cassandra, the spymaster… and probably even Iron Bull. Not that she wanted all but just one of those people in her bed…

Shaking her head, the Mercia cleared her throat and adjusted herself. Thankfully with such a larger keep came more help; Clothes washed almost daily. No more of those annoying pajama-like uniforms…

Least she could now move around Skyhold without looking like a dork. But right now? She was lost. In one of the underground chambers, she loosely crossed her arms. Though Skyhold wasn't especially big, it was quite easy to get lost in.

These lower levels were in more disrepair than the rest of the fortress. One section was even slated for no efforts to fix it; condemned… Was such a thing safe for them? Well… if it hadn't collapsed yet, surely it could withstand anything.

With the ambassador's broad networking, Mercia was sure they'd get it sorted. That Josephine was like a force of nature when it came to political challenges. So she was sure getting the staff to repair a castle was nothing.

"Fancy seeing you down here." Practically jumping out of her skin, Mercia shot her gaze towards a corner. Sera came into view from the dank darkness, and she shook her head.

"Don't scare me like that." She muttered, rubbing at faintly sore ribs.

"I can scare you in some other way, then?" Sera smirked, gesturing around them. "What the bloody piss are you doin' around crumbly walls and mucky corners? I thought you hated spiders- Oh, there's one now!"

"I am _not_ afraid of spiders!" The Inquisitor shot, though glanced at the small thing anyway. The eight legged creature crawled on the ceiling, minding its own business. Either way, Mercia couldn't help but feel suspicious of it.

She wondered why she even had a dislike for them. "Spending your time with a noble? How strange of you."

"You aren't bad. Only the piss biscuits get their breeches nicked." The blonde elf shrugged.

"I'm glad." Mercia gave a wry smile, taking a notable step away from where the spider was. She glanced around, not sure where she had come from. "I'm lost, Sera." She looked back towards the elf, frowning.

"Er… I'm not someone to go all bleedy heart on, just cause I've got ears doesn't mean I'm good at listening, and-"

"What? Oh, no, not that sort of lost. I don't know how to get outside."

"You, lost? Not enough shite and crap to jump over?" Though Skyhold certainly did have enough debris for such a thing. "Just come up these stairs, they- oh, that scary old Nightingale was asking for you."

The spymaster?

"Wha- stairs?" Mercia furrowed her brow, stepping closer. Oh, there they were. "Huh… I could have sworn I've walked by this area three times without seeing those…" She mused, though shook her head. "Sister Nightingale is asking for me?"

"Nooo…" The archer droned. "Just get there before she loses it. She's acting all strange." Shuffling past the Inquisitor, she jabbed a finger towards the stairs. "Don't get lost now, Inqy." She grinned, entering further into the chambers.

Chuckling, Mercia ascended the stairs and hummed. Skyhold sure was strange, but it was strong. She liked it.

Entering into the main hall, the Inquisitor cocked a brow. That title had taken so long to get used to… Ah, but, Leliana was looking for her.

But here was another issue. Which door did she take to get to the top floor? Was it the third left…? No… "We need signs…" She muttered under her breath, staring up to the towering ceiling.

How funny would that be, though? Josephine would be absolutely appalled, and would no doubt order a steward to give her a tour… _again_.

Did that Antivan ever move from her desk? Mercia was actually beginning to wonder if Josephine was glued to her chair. The last time she had seen Josephine standing, was those two days ago. That having been when they had first arrived in Skyhold.

"Varric." She hissed to the dwarf, the crossbowman arching a brow in her general direction. "Which door leads to the rookery?"

"...This one, Inquisitor." He gave her a funny look, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. The door was at his back, and he chuckled to her blank stare. "Just through here, and up the stairs by two floors. You can't miss her." The crows alone would give away Leliana's position. These days it seemed it was the only thing the spymaster was ever around. Birds and notes.

Finding herself climbing the stairs two steps at a time, Merica felt confused. Why was she so keen to meet with Leliana? Their last interaction hadn't been the smoothest. But even so, here she was, practically tripping over her own feet.

Dorian had been listening to her scramble up the stairs, looking thoroughly amused. "She's not going anywhere." He stage-whispered to her, Mercia's cheeks flush from mild embarrassment.

The Inquisitor ignored him after a subtle wave, turning to ascend the second stairway. She was out of breath; Ribs sore and screaming in protest from the trip.

Within this rookery, the squawking of birds illuminated the place. Absolutely everything apart from a lone desk was covered by cloth too. Mercia could only imagine the damage these crows created.

Having one abruptly land atop her head, she froze.

"Baron Plucky, bad boy." The crow was taken from her head gently, a soft voice reprimanding the bird. He was released back towards the high ceiling, and Leliana turned towards the younger woman.

" _Baron Plucky?"_ The noble's eyebrows arched. Mercia quickly studied the rookery. Apart from the crows, it was just her, and the spymaster. Surely Leliana would have some agents up here? "...Any loose floorboards I need to know about?" She idly questioned, looking about the old timber.

"None if you know where to step." Leliana spoke with a hint of amusement, though her steps did seem deliberate. Mercia followed her carefully back to the desk, curious.

"Why the call?"

"I think you know why." The spymaster murmured, leaning against the desk. Scrolls and notes were scattered amongst it. At this point, Mercia wondered how Leliana could find anything. Her eyes wandered by to the hooded woman, and she tilted her head faintly.

"I'm sorry? I don't know?" The Inquisitor spoke, glancing down to the note Leliana passed her. Cautiously, she took the parchment, bringing it closer to read.

" _The Hero of Ferelden, or more precisely, Elissa Cousland is the exact opposite of Andraste herself. She's responsible for the purge of the Ferelden Circle, and the corruption of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. These are just a few horrors she has committed."_

The note was so short, and simple, yet got the point across instantly. Stuck in place, Mercia blinked slowly, and looked up to Leliana. The elder's back faced her now, Leliana staring down to the pages scattered around.

"Ah. The… legend is convoluted, then." Mercia reread the page, unsure of what to say next. Corruption of the Sacred Ashes… No way Leliana would have stood for that, so…

"She betrayed you?" It was less a question and more a nudging comment. Mercia lowered the note, taking a step closer to Leliana. "Before this… were you two close?'

"Close is a one sided statement, Inquisitor."

So it _was_ betrayal. Placing the note onto the desk, Mercia rubbed her fingers to her lips. How had such information not come through to the public? Not even she herself had heard such things. "Had the Sacred Ashes been the last… straw?"

"I was blind." Leliana bitterly chuckled, her voice sounding watery. Was she crying? "Blinded by love, by my hopeless thoughts that _she_ could save the world, and put everything right. Her poisoning those ashes… It brought everything to light."

The spymaster sighed, keeping her back to the younger. "She left me there, for dead."

Left clueless with how to react, Mercia remained behind her. What was she to do? Would it be best to continue listening to Leliana? It sounded as if the redhead hadn't spoken a word to anyone about this.

"Left you?" She frowned, guiding her eyes to Leliana's hooded head. She watched the elder carefully, seeing a hint of skin.

"I attacked her when she poisoned those ashes. I was so overcome with anger at all of her decisions. She struck me down, and left me for dead. I did _die_ though, I know it. But, I woke hours later, just alive enough to get help."

"In the middle of the Temple of Sacred Ashes? How did you manage that?" The whole region had been abandoned, hadn't it? Or had there been a few people in Haven? But still, that was a good day's walk at least.

Musing over clouded puzzlement, the brunette leaned against the railings. A crow perched itself against her arm, and she looked towards it silently. Why were all these birds wanting to land on her? She shook it off gently, though it still gave an indignant squawk.

Leliana shook her head, Mercia barely catching the motion. "I ended up awake, outside of the temple. I have no idea how I got there, nor how I survived. Perhaps it was the Maker, not having finished punishing me…"

"Or perhaps the opposite?" Mercia inquired, giving up with the insistent crow. She regarded the black and red bird, merely getting a beady stare in return. "Though you may find believing in the Maker difficult, you still hope. You fear she may return- and she probably will. But imagine what we could do if we captured her."

Remaining prone by the railings, Mercia could only watch the elder turn around hesitantly.

"If we captured her? Could such a thing be possible? She was entirely far too charming for her own good; Rather, for _my_ own good. I do not even know where she could be." Leliana gave a breath, catching Mercia's gaze again.

"What would you want to happen to her, if we managed to capture her?" The younger woman quirked a brow, interested.

"Only the dead have that choice." Leliana's expression hardened. "But if I was given that choice?" She asked more to herself than Merica, the other nodding. "I would have her burn longer than what Andraste ever felt. Then I would throw her away within an inch of her life."

"You would give her as much as an inch, hm?" Mercia quirked a brow, having an urge to nudge Leliana playfully. She thought against it, humming thoughtfully. "I would slit her throat, even after the burning. Just to be safe. You know what they say about _witches_."

"Witches?" Leliana's tone altered a touch. "Oh, Maker no. I knew a witch personally. They are rather… stubborn in their nature." A tone of remembrance filtered across the redhead's expression. "I met her during the Fifth Blight. She was aloof, and interesting. But she never went with my suggestions for her… _strange_ fashion choices."

"Mm, I didn't mean any ill will towards those sorts. I meant… the ones in evil lore; What that Cousland sounds like. Not a witch in any right with magic, but rather in ugly attitude and soul." Mercia explained, though she glanced towards Leliana. "Strange fashion choices?"

"The old crone with the potion? Like an ancient fairytale?" Leliana sat herself down on the nearby bench, and Mercia followed suit. She notioned the younger woman to sit down beside her, and she exhaled. "Tell me, have you ever heard of the Witch of the Wilds?"

"Stories, mostly. Nothing ever so… concrete." Mercia made sure to give Leliana space, not wanting a repeat of Haven. She was careful in her motions, lifting a hand to cup her own chin. "Ranged rumors and gossip. Can you tell me more?"

"The witch I knew was one of the many daughters of the Witch of the Wilds." Staring up into the beams of the rookery, the spymaster crossed a leg. "She could shapeshift into the strangest of things. Though her tastes in clothing was… questionable at best; she was probably one of the most beautiful women I had set eyes on."

"Shapeshifting? Unless I'm ignorant, that's not common for mages, is it?" Mercia quirked a brow, eyeing how Leliana was sitting. That couldn't be comfortable with those greaves, could it? Then again, the older woman always seemed completely comfortable…

Was this thanks to being a bard, sister, or the Divine's Left Hand? Perhaps it was all three?

"It is extremely rare. Perhaps almost as rare as your mark." Setting her eyes upon the Inquisitor, Leliana studied her slowly. Her chainmail rattled as she shifted, the weaved metal weighing down fabric. With this movement, she spoke once more. "It is a forgotten art like the arcane warrior. Perhaps shapeshifting is only part of the Witch of the Wilds daughters? Maybe we'll never know?"

"That is quite a lot to take in… But, my mark? Is it rare, or only one of a kind?" Mercia asked, laying her palm out over her own knee. The anchor sparked to life, the Inquisitor hiding it with a clenched fist. "That is curious, about the witch… What was her name?" She hoped to distract from the action, cocking a brow.

She knew this was an impossible feat with Leliana, however. How could she keep such a detail from the spymaster?

"Morrigan." Leliana murmured, slender eyebrows wrinkling. She regarded Mercia's arm quietly, leaning forward. She ignored the younger female's discomfort, watching emerald spread.

"Morrigan? What a lovely name." Mercia tried to dissuade from a closer examination, subtly folding her arms over her chest. The left she kept hidden, while fingertips of her right hand tapped along her shoulder. "What happened to her? Is she…?"

"I do not know." The redhead glanced up to her sharply. Taking Mercia's left wrist into her hands, she pried the arm closer. The notion pushed her closer, Leliana watching the mark cautiously.

"Ah…" She had been trying to keep its spread a secret. Since the Breach had been opened yet again, it had kickstarted the mark's progress. Her veins were lit up in the sickly green glow, all the way to her shoulder.

"How long has this been happening? Tell me."

What was she supposed to say? Swallowing, Mercia paused in thought. Her brain stumbled in how to reply, and she simply stared at the elder.

"Does it really matter?" She smiled instead, hoping to avoid the topic. "As Cassandra stated when we first met; Every time the Breach grows, my mark spreads, and it's killing me." Mercia shrugged her right shoulder, giving off an air of carelessness.

"Of course it matters." Leliana frowned, her voice lifting. She pulled away from Mercia, and stood. A crow had perched itself atop the railings in front of them, squawking. "Has closing rifts improved it? Or is more power forcing it to spread?" She unhooked a letter attached to the bird's foot, and read it swiftly.

The crow ruffled its feathers feverishly, beady eyes staring up at Leliana.

"Ah… Closing rifts relieves the pain of it." Mercia shifted on the bench, tugging down her tunic's sleeve to hide the spread. She stood, making her way to Leliana's side. With a frown, she glanced away and towards the tall ceiling of the rookery.

"Perhaps it was a bad idea to become so close to you… It will only hurt more when I die."

"Who's to say you would _die_?" Leliana's furrow deepened, pushing the letter aside. She turned to the Inquisitor fully, speaking clearly. "Maybe you _were_ chosen by the Maker. Perhaps you _are_ the Herald of Andraste. I was unsure, but now?" She still was.

Mercia chuckled softly, leaning against the railing where it was strongest. She shook her head, voice solemn when she spoke again. "Perhaps I am, but surely you remember that even Andraste died." The Inquisitor closed her eyes, numbly reciting a verse from the chant of light. " _Let the blade pass through the flesh, let my blood touch the ground; Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice._ "

" _In the long hours of the night, when hope has abandoned me, I will see the stars and know your Light remains."_ The spymaster easily recited, catching Mercia's attention. Her gaze forced the younger woman to turn to her fully, her hands hooking behind herself. " _I have heard the sound a song in the stillness, the echo of your voice calling creation to wake from its slumber."_

Was this the… Canticle of Trials?

" _How can we know you? In the turning of the seasons, in life and death in the empty space where our hearts hunger for a forgotten face?"_

Mercia listened, clearing her throat as she turned her gaze away again. "I'll definitely need to refresh myself on the chants if I'm to be caught reciting in your presence again." She teased, though even she could hear her heart wasn't in it. "But, you are right. I shouldn't become so… down, regarding the mark." She lied through a soft smile, shaking her head.

With the pain and spread of the mark, Mercia knew that her death would be an end far too close for her liking. Perhaps even as close as defeating Corypheus… "I should leave you to your work."

Blue eyes narrowed, the spymaster clutching her arm. She kept the warrior in place firmly, continuing. " _You have walked beside me down the paths where a thousand arrows sought my flesh. You have stood with me when all others have forsaken me."_ Pausing for only a moment, she wet her lips. " _I have faced armies with you as my shield. And though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing can break me except your absence."_

Mercia's gaze bore deep into the spymaster's own, the noble woman silent. It seemed she was considering something, flecks of the Fade dancing in green eyes. Lowering her gaze from Leliana's, her attention remained upon the older woman's face. Was there a deeper meaning to those words, or was it just for faith?

The spymaster's tone lifted a pitch higher, snatching her attention tighter yet. Leliana was determined in this, for whatever it truly meant. " _When I have lost all else, when my eyes fail me, and the taste of blood fills my mouth. Then in the pounding of my heart I hear the glory of creation."_

Suddenly, upon this notion, Mercia realised what Leliana was attempting. This chant about the Maker strangely suited her life as the Inquisitor.

" _You have grieved as I have. You, who made worlds out of nothing. We are alike in sorrow, sculptor and clay, comforting each other in our art. Do not grieve for me, Inquisitor of All. Though all others may forget you, your name is etched into my every step. I will not forsake you, even if I forget myself."_

Mercia returned her gaze to Leliana's, raising her hand for the one on her arm. She gently extricated herself from the spymaster's grip, smiling even so. "Thank you, Leliana… Though, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to confess something to me." She playfully chuckled, hoping to leave this uncomfortable conversation with humor.

"What do you think?" The spymaster inquired, turning back to her crow. She notioned the bird to hop onto her arm, and it did so. "The Chant of Light has never failed me. Depending on the moment, it can be used to heal wounds a spell cannot, yes?" Drifting to the table, she set the bird atop the chair. "They heal numerous mental scars."

"I have no doubt about that." Mercia didn't follow her, instead taking a step towards the stairs. "I'll leave you to your work? I know someone must be needing my attention." The Inquisitor chuckled softly, idling by. Was she waiting to be dismissed?

This conversation between them… Mercia couldn't make heads or tails around it. She felt mixed about it, like there was something looming. But what was this? She had felt a… chemistry of sorts. But what was the true intention?

"The Inquisitor is always needed." The hooded woman turned her head slightly, Mercia barely catching sight of skin. "Do not push yourself. I will meet you at the war table later tonight."

* * *

 **COLLAB NOTES**

Leliana's Mercy takes place in our custom made 'DEPRESSION STATE'. This state is essentially a chaotic, and traumatic world. Many key events have taken place in Origins which has scarred Leliana and Cullen for life. For instance, the Ferelden Circle was purged, Redcliffe was abandoned, and Alistair was executed by Loghain. This means many characters from Origins don't exist within Inquisition (Wynne, Alistair, Connor, etc).

 **Warden:** Elissa Cousland (Warrior) slayed the Archdemon and is alive. She is "Chaotically Evil".

 **Morrigan:** She retrieved Flemeth's grimoire after the Witch of the Wilds was "killed". Before entering the eluvian, the Warden stabbed her.

 **Leliana ("Romanced"):** Betrayed and "killed" after the Warden corrupted the Urn the Sacred Ashes.

 **Hawke:** Marian (Warrior) has the "Humorous Personality". Her behaviour is "Neutral" when making decisions. She fought the templars, and executed Anders.

 **Isabela (Romanced):** She returned to Hawke, and wasn't handed over to Arishok.

 **Merrill:** She is currently alive, and didn't destroy her eluvian. Her clan also wasn't slaughtered.


	2. Engraved Fortune

_**by Twisted Eternal Wolvetta**_

 _ **and Harmonium-Kruger**_

* * *

 **Leliana's Mercy**

 **Engraved Fortune**

* * *

"When you said you were helping with this mission, I didn't expect you to _physically_ come." Mercia murmured, Leliana following after them on her own horse. In this new region, it was mostly uncharted. It was a dangerous location, and one they couldn't conquer. The spymaster had insisted on joining them, so Mercia couldn't refuse.

"What can I say? I miss the sense of danger. Being surrounded by your agents does that, no?"

"Sense of danger… I could do with less of that." Mercia commented, eyes scanning the clifftops when they rode by them. She was sure any assassin threats would be dealt with by Leliana's agents nonetheless.

"We should set up camp, soon." Cassandra's voice jarred Mercia, if only for a moment. She was starting to think only Leliana was at her side. That was… dangerous in and of itself.

The Emerald Graves was a place they _couldn't_ get lost within. It would be their death. This was also the heart of the Dales. So who knew what they could be up against during the night? Let alone the daylight they currently resided in?

"Just not near brontos, yeah? They stink of shite."

"You're only concerned with their smell?" Cassandra inquired, arching a brow with disapproval to Sera.

"The charging I can avoid, well, if I stand behind you." The elf fluttered her eyelashes at the seeker, Cassandra huffing a breath. Mercia chuckled, shaking her head as she surveyed the area.

"Let's find a clearing, set up camp there. Try not to… disturb the land, so much." The Inquisitor ordered, glancing to Leliana at her side. They hadn't spoken at length since the rookery…

This had been a good week or two. Perhaps even a month. They had been so busy with rebuilding Skyhold, that they hadn't had the chance. Perhaps tonight they would? Mercia couldn't help but begin to feel a connection with the elder.

For what it was, she couldn't quite describe. Maybe it was a similarity? Leliana had suffered greatly however, so it would be difficult. But hard for what, precisely?

"Cassandra, do you honestly let her flirt with you? That's such a far cry from when we first met." Leliana smirked, glancing back only briefly. A snuffling noise caught her attention, the spymaster's gaze returning to the front.

Nugs ran in the shadows beneath great trees, some to avoid the sun and others escaping them. Eyes lighting up, Leliana gave a quiet gasp.

Mercia heard, cocking a brow as she glanced towards the older woman again. "I think I saw a note that said you fancied nugs?" She hinted, a smirk dancing on her face.

"I do _not_ fancy them." The redhead bit, but only softly. She only regarded the brunette for a moment, scanning the ground again. "They are adorable, but vicious when trained. You would not believe how well suited they are for torture."

" _This is why you don't prank her…"_ Sera mumbled under her breath.

Mercia chuckled lowly, watching one nug run into the belly of another. "They seem young, babies maybe?" She asked, not expecting a response. "Maybe we should set up camp around them. Any squeaks could alert us to an attack."

"Is that an excuse for Leliana's obsession, I hear-" Halting mid sentence, Cassandra tugged at the reins of her horse. The brown stallion clomped to a stop against thick roots, and stones. "There's something…"

"Piss! Giants and brontos up ahead!" They heard Sera alert, the blonde making off her horse quickly. The large animal quickly fled the scene, Sera retreating to the cliff edge.

"Whoa…" Mercia slowed her horse, slipping from the saddle. She spurred the animal to retreat, slipping her sword from its sheath. Her shield bracing her free arm, the Inquisitor surveyed the area ahead. "How many giants?"

"I count three." Cassandra spoke, having slipped from her horse as well. Her fellow warrior immediately surged ahead, no doubt planning to try and keep all hostile attention on herself.

The nugs had all but disappeared, and Leliana with her horse had also. Mercia felt an abrupt worry, but this was soon destroyed. An arrow flew just overhead from her right, the head crunching into a giant's eye sickeningly. The giant flailed in agony, chunky hands flapping to its head as blood spewed.

"Ew, gross." Sera grumbled from a distance.

"She hates the bloody bits." Mercia murmured to herself, though wondered if Leliana could hear her. As she neared to slice along a thick leg, she felt blood drip onto her back. They would need to find a stream to wash off…

It was astounding to even consider it, especially as the towering beasts thundered and leapt around. Let alone when the giants started throwing boulders, forcing the group to fling themselves into cover.

" _Oi, prissies! Take this!"_ The blonde elf shouted from her cliffedge, grounding a knee into mossy rock. She strung an arrow to her bowstring deftly, pouring energy into the projectile. Releasing the arrow, it was sent into a giant's chest, and into another's thigh.

With a trail of blood carried with it, a disgusted grunt sounded from the blonde. " _So gross!"_

"Good job, Sera!" Mercia called, surging forward with Cassandra. With the giants no longer lobbing boulders, they could strike. Capitalizing on the arrow in one's thigh, the Inquisitor slammed her shield against it to bury it completely.

Cassandra was on the other, and the ground shook as she felled it. Mercia tried to locate Leliana on the battlefield, but it was near impossible. Her giant staggered and she foolishly believe it about to fall. Instead, it had braced itself and swung its club wildly against her.

Maybe her shield had taken most of the blow, she didn't know. All she realised at that moment, was no pain. Instead, she watched the world whirl around her for a brief couple of seconds. Slamming into a nearby tree trunk, her breath poured from her lungs.

A shout from Cassandra carried in the air, and Sera was heard cursing sharply.

Her vision was screwed, but Mercia hadn't a clue why. She felt liquid running down her cheek, and curled her top lip. Was Sera pouring that damned ale on her again, for victory? No… The elf was too far away, so what was…?

She felt utterly dizzy, stomach tightening into a knot. Her sword had been lost, free hand burying itself into the dirt. Crimson drooled to mix into the soil; Dripping down from her head.

The environment around her faded slowly, but her heart instead leapt. A figure- Leliana stood before her, her back facing her. The spymaster had strung an arrow to her bow, sending it on its way. She did this until she was out, barely warding a charging bronto away.

In the distance, Sera and Cassandra barely managed to slay the second giant. The last was storming towards them, however, the brontos on its tail.

" _Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame. Andraste, guide me. Maker, take me to your side!"_

Those words… Mercia had heard them before, back in that awful future of Alexius' doing. A battered Leliana, barely alive and yet still wanting to help. She had sacrificed herself back then, so that the sick future would never come.

Vision turning black, the Inquisitor reached a hand for Leliana desperately. She couldn't lose her again…

* * *

Darkness. Was she dead? Reminded of the time she had almost died at Haven, Mercia's eyes shot open. Greeted by strands of red hair, she blinked slowly. A confusion filtered into her mind, clouding her senses.

Where was she? Leliana?

Tilting her pulsing head back, Mercia found herself in the spymaster's lap.

"Don't move." Leliana warned, feeling the younger wake. "Your head is still bleeding… My agents are tracking down a flower for a poultice to stop it."

Mercia blinked dumbly up to her, her eyes seeming dazed still. "Is everyone…?"

"Maker, no." Leliana answered, pressing an ungloved hand to Mercia's jaw. She pushed her cheek gently against her thigh.

With the notion, her head ached, but she took no notice. Realising this meant the spymaster wasn't wearing her greaves, her eyes glanced back up to her.

Leliana's tunic was loosely open, showcasing frilly cotton interlaced with leather. It fit her form snuggly, holding both a fashion, and protection from the undone chainmail coat.

"Then… everyone is safe?" Mercia's voice was a grave whisper. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't blink away the film over her eyes. It must be connected to her wound… She felt the blood, sticky and warm against her temple.

"I must be making you dirty." Her tongue felt thick and barely was able to be lifted; Speech slurring as consequence. "I can… move…?"

"I wouldn't recommend it." Leliana warned, cloth in hand. The material was soft, and damp. With this, she pressed it lightly to Mercia's forehead, smearing blood. "Do not worry about me, Inquisitor. I was never afraid of a little blood." Her lips twitched for only a moment, her other hand clasped to Mercia's left shoulder.

Even the miniscule pressure of the cloth made her hiss. Stomach flipping, Mercia strongly fought the urge to vomit. Her head was pounding, lips parting to release a weak groan. How much blood had she lost? She felt…

"I'm… cold."

"You have lost a lot of blood." Leliana remarked, leaving the cloth atop Mercia's wound. Instead, she went about adjusting her coat. Lifting the shoulder armour, she unclipped it, unbuckling the armour.

Mindlessly watching the notion, Mercia hadn't a clue what she was doing. The younger woman took shaky breaths, too deep for someone in such a state. "Leliana? Am I going to die?" Her voice was weak, with a frightened tone.

The spymaster paused, their eyes locking. With one arm out of her chainmail coat, she ignored it. Casting a worried gesture to the younger woman, she guided the Inquisitor's cheeks into her hands. "No, you won't."

Swallowing roughly, to keep sickness at bay and from fear, Mercia stared up to her. Leliana's hands were soft, despite callouses and her trade. "Are you sure?" She tried to joke, but her voice fell flat. She closed her eyes tight, brows twitching to the pain pulsing in her skull.

"I'm sure, Inquisitor. You have only-"

" _Stop calling me Inquisitor already."_ Mercia breathed sharply, forcing the elder into silence. One hand left her cheek, Leliana forcing her coat away from herself. " _Please?"_

"If that is what you would like." The elder spoke softly, gently spreading her coat across Mercia's body. The extra layer and her own warmth would help immensely.

"It is." Her eyes were still closed, pain pulling the corners of her mouth down. The heavy addition of Leliana's coat was welcomed with a tremble. She caught a scent; Perfume or merely how the spymaster kept her clothing scented? "You… smell good."

The elder's roughened palm was against her eyes. Leliana was still against her, and mildly, Mercia wondered; had she reacted to that statement? She didn't know, nor could she discover an answer with her eyes covered. Maybe Leliana had purposely done so?

"Spymaster?"

"If I am to call you by your name, you must give me the same pleasure." Leliana chuckled softly, a hint of something warmer in her voice. Her free hand took the cloth again, easing it away from the wound before the pressure doubled.

"Still bleeding, hm?" Mercia felt her skull pulse from the redoubled effort.

She was honestly amazed she was intact still. After all, she had been beaten aside by a giant of all things. Mercia had expected a few broken ribs at least. But all she seemed to have sustained was a bleeding temple.

"It has lessened. But only slightly."

"How long will it take to make the poultice once they return?" Mercia asked, lifting a hand weakly. She set it atop Leliana's which still covered her eyes, thumb absentmindedly stroking along her wrist.

Was this an intimate caress? It felt… not natural, but familiar; As if she and Leliana were closer than they truly were.

Watching the notion quietly, all the spymaster could do was stare. It reminded her of a dark time which she wished to forget. Yet she had to remind herself of who this was. Mercia Trevelyan _wasn't_ Elissa Cousland. These two people would _never_ be alike.

Mercia was kind; Not in a way that masked her, but _truly_. Leliana knew that getting close to the younger woman may be dangerous, but… Could she handle this again?

"...Leliana?" Mercia's thumb paused, fingertips giving a little tap. "Did you hear me?"

"Of course I did." The redhead frowned subtly. She was lost in thought again, holding the cloth calmly to Mercia's wound. What was she going to do with this Inquisitor? Shaking her head faintly, she sighed. "Depending on the skill… an hour at most."

Poultice crafting was a fine art, and took years to master. It involved much more than just throwing elfroot into a bottle.

"An hour…?" Mercia sounded helpless, as if she were nothing but a whining child. She sighed, continuing to stroke Leliana's wrist. Her tongue was heavy again, words slurring into each other. "An hour to keep bleeding."

Didn't they have emergency supplies for this precise event? Perhaps Sera had ended up using them all again? Sighing roughly, she sank into Leliana's thighs. Why was the spymaster so comfortable to lie against? Though she could feel the tense, and developed muscle in Leliana's legs, nothing felt at odds.

Thinking back to the time warp, Mercia remembered what Leliana could do with them. For some reason, she felt her cheeks heat, and she frowned under the redhead's palm.

Leliana quirked a brow down to her, feeling the heat. "Are you too hot?" She asked, about to remove her hand. Mercia held it close, more to conceal her blush than anything.

"No, I'm… still cold." The younger murmured, lifting blindly with her free hand.

"You're sure?" Tilting her head away from the wandering hand, Leliana paused. She watched the palm hesitantly, until pulling back forward. The coarse fingertips grazed her chin, and a thought entered her mind.

When she had been recovering from the Fifth Blight, Divine Justinia had spoken with her. She had told her that the Warden had been a mistake. That eventually the Maker would purge her. But didn't this destroy everything about the Maker? He was supposed to love them unconditionally. But why would the Maker create such a being as her?

The fingers upon her chin trailed to her jawline, and gradually she pushed into them. Leliana felt far too confused. What was she supposed to do?

"You're not hurt, are you?" Mercia asked, the pads of her fingers reaching higher. She cupped Leliana's jaw, grip on the elder's wrist tightening. Her eyes were still covered, and she found this… endearing. To be so close to this woman who had caught her attention was almost dream-like.

Did Leliana know of her idle affection, she wondered? It would be a miracle if she didn't…

No. The spymaster wasn't oblivious in nature. Such a feat would be impossible to imagine, let alone portray. Numerous times this bard had caught her out. So Leliana was more than likely aware of what she was doing.

"I'm not." Did Mercia understand what this route would take? Was this the right path to take? She wasn't stupid- she knew the risk. But Leliana found herself uncaring at the same time.

It was foolhardy.

"But I'm exhausted."

Mercia chuckled softly, the sound catching somewhere in her throat. She clamped her mouth shut, teeth gritting as her body stiffened. Leliana's brows furrowed, and she pressed the cloth against the wound tighter in response. The hand at the older woman's jaw fell, thumping into the dirt.

" _I don't…"_ Mercia tried to speak, but couldn't fit words past bile. She swallowed it back, letting go of Leliana's hand. Eyes opening barely, she turned her head and choked to release bile away from the spymaster.

She was vaguely aware of her hair being guided back. As short as it was, the elder woman still minded it. With a gradual relief hitting her stomach, she weakly exhaled.

The taste was disgusting, and her nose wrinkled in response. Again, her awareness heightened to Leliana. She was moving them away from the vomit gently. The notion never disturbed the Inquisitor's upset stomach. How, she didn't know, but she was grateful.

"' _m sorry."_ Her voice was thicker now, and very soft. She felt another cloth clean at her mouth, her head braced carefully. Had Leliana been prepared if she had vomited? Of course she would have been…

Off in the distance there were voices, but Mercia couldn't understand them. She instead gazed up to Leliana, dazed eyes eventually closing again. She was so tired…

"Inquisitor? Lelia-" Cassandra slipped into the tent cautiously, a disgusted expression casting along her features. She regarded the vomit with a glance, before looking down to the sight before her.

"We found royal elfroot." The Seeker spoke slowly, eyeing the unconscious Free Marcher noble. "Sera is preparing the poultice, much to my regret."

Cassandra cleared her throat, using her boot to trudge dirt to cover the vomit. "Has she awakened since, or did she just empty her stomach?" She cocked a brow, noting Leliana's state of undress.

"She woke." Leliana spoke softly, chuckling low from her chest. "She asked if she was dead."

"She has been asking that a lot lately." Narrowing her eyes faintly, the seeker's suspicions rose. The spymaster hadn't turned to even acknowledge her. The younger woman's attention was solely placed upon Mercia.

Should she be concerned, she wondered? Cassandra wasn't even too sure of this herself. "Sera will have two poultices ready in a quarter of an hour."

"Cassandra?" Before the seeker could take her leave, Leliana spoke again. "Do you think Mercia wants to die? She keeps asking if she has already died… I wonder if she fears death, or welcomes it." Lifting her gaze, if only briefly, she met the older woman's dark eyes.

The Nevarran princess pursed her lips, uncomfortable. "I… do not know." Dark eyes flicked to the Inquisitor's left hand, able to see the weak mark. "Either way, death comes to us all." She stepped from the tent, making a quick escape.

Disapproval. This had been something Leliana would've felt long ago. But although Cassandra was essentially correct, it was the wrong timing. Why would she say such a thing at this point? Looking down to the mark which had recently spread further, Leliana frowned.

She had left Mercia in thin clothing, so the mark was bright. Under cotton, emerald shone, reaching up to the left shoulder.

Tracing over the soft fabric, the spymaster pressed her fingertips down. The mark held little warmth, but seemed to react to attention. Whether that was good or not, she had no clue. Leliana sighed, checking the wound again. The cloth was halfway soaked, and the blood still trickled.

At this point, she lamented not having brought a mage.

* * *

Eyes shooting open for a second time that night, Mercia soon clenched them back shut. It was the cursed tent ceiling again. But this time, it was illuminated in a glow. She shifted uncomfortably against the bedroll she rested against.

Had Leliana moved her, she wondered? Gazing to a stocky candle, it glowed within the darkness. It formed shadows amongst the tent, and she caught sight of another figure. Amongst blankets, she spotted Leliana. The spymaster's back was facing her, and looked to have been there a while. The state of her clothing also seemed to be the same.

Mercia felt less weak at least, raising a hand to her head. She felt thick bandages, and the itchy poultice covering her wound underneath. There was a waterskin near her, and she quickly downed half. The taste of sick in her mouth was thankfully gone; Mercia setting the waterskin away.

Was Leliana truly sleeping? Surely even the Nightingale needed rest. Laying back, the Inquisitor rubbed over the bandages to relieve the faint itching. "...Leliana?"

For a time, there was no reply. The redheaded bard shifted slowly, her arm unhooking from around her torso. She glanced over her shoulder to Mercia, her expression smoothing out from exhaustion. "Yes?" She questioned, prying the blankets from herself.

Instead of that light leather, Mercia noticed the spymaster had taken it off. Instead, she only wore the cotton of her armour. It fit against her slender figure smoothly, crinkling where folds naturally sat. It was… indescribable to Mercia as she watched Leliana.

"What is it? Do you need something?" The spymaster attempted to lure an answer from her, sinking to her side.

"No, I-" Her voice caught, and Mercia coughed to defer the noise. She grasped the waterskin again, taking a sip. "I only wanted to be sure you were… here." She had had a dreamless sleep, but it had been _different_. Setting the thing away again, the younger woman put a hand to her brow.

The poultice beneath was maddeningly itchy…

She knew she couldn't do away with it though. It wasn't as simple as the waterskin. Perhaps what she truly wanted, was she to get to know Leliana better? Was this it? But why risk such a fragile relationship? Mercia knew how risk-worthy her duty as the Inquisitor was.

But even so… Why did this woman intrigue her so?

"If that's so, I am right here." The spymaster remarked, settling down onto her knees.

"Yes… Thankfully." Mercia chuckled softly, laying herself back. She was doubly grateful that she had waited to heal before spearheading an expedition. Her ribs would have no doubt been broken from the giant's club.

She was less pathetic than earlier, gaze finding Leliana even through the dark. Something still seemed… off about this. "Am I dreaming?"

"Dreaming?" The redhead tilted her head in repeated question. "I wouldn't assume so. Unless I was too." Leliana frowned at her reply, wondering if such a thing had been correct to say.

Had it?

But… the spymaster studied her carefully, a sudden thought coming to mind. If it wasn't death the Inquisitor asked about, it was dreaming? Lifting a hand, she skimmed her fingers to her lips in response.

"Good…" Mercia mumbled softly, closing her eyes again. When they opened, they were less dazed. "I must seem so morbid to you; Asking about death every time I wake?" She gave a weak chuckle, hands folded onto her lower stomach.

"Having been a lay sister, I had come across many things." The spymaster remarked. Leliana had seen her fair share in death- of course she had. During the Fifth Blight, and her short stay in Kirkwall. The Conclave had perhaps hit her harder than the Fifth Blight.

An archdemon or a 'magister'. Which one was worse, precisely?

"Death is an unknown to us. Many fear it, whilst others don't." Leliana continued. She fell into thought once more, musing. Since Haven a month ago, they hadn't seen even a hint of Corypheus.

"Do you fear death?" Mercia spoke, even though she may already know the answer. Leliana had sacrificed herself in that almost-future in Redcliffe… But that didn't mean she didn't fear the consequence.

Doubting herself, the Inquisitor gingerly reached a hand up for Leliana once more. She wanted what they had had earlier; A sense of intimate privacy in the wake of battle.

Was it unfit of her to even suggest such an option? The Inquisitor and the _Spymaster_? For yearning a connection, more was to always follow. Would having that relation with an advisor be the end of her?

But even so, Mercia was awfully aware of the path she was taking here. She wanted Leliana's opinion on this, but would she dare ask it? Her hand touched against soft skin, and she paused through cautious intention. The palm of her hand pressed against the corner of Leliana's lips.

The bard was ever still. She seemed unsure of herself, and their environment. Bed ridden strands intruded upon sky-blue eyes, and Leliana spoke. "Of course I do. I cannot be aware of our future, if I am to die today. How can I change the world for the better, when I am dead?"

Mercia chuckled, happy at least that her touch hadn't been avoided. "That's a refreshing thought. So many gave their lives at Haven, just to give us time. Our workers, pilgrims… I'm saddened I couldn't save them all." The Inquisitor sighed, not wanting to press her luck. She let her hand fall beside herself, in the space between her side and Leliana's knees.

Silence overtook the tent before the older woman broke it. "What about you? Do you fear death, or do you welcome it?"

"I feared death in the past, but..." Mercia spoke slowly, a hint of surprise catching in Leliana's eyes. "But as the Herald of Andraste… the Inquisitor. I'm far too important with this mark to die." If she wasn't here, the future she had seen would happen.

"That is entirely too true." Leliana's voice was quiet, one hand slipping from her lap. Lithe fingers found Mercia's wrist, and she gently took hold of it. "Do you still have that _damned_ resolve that you will inevitably give in to it?"

Mercia's chuckle was wry, utterly humorless. "I do."

"Is there any chance I could change that mind?" Why did Leliana care so much, she wondered? She had already lost so much during the past, why would she risk it once more? The spymaster simply couldn't help herself. With this, her shoulders faintly sank.

Maker, who was she kidding here? Herself, or the world?

Mercia gave her a surprised glance, but not one that suggested the elder was foolish. She only seemed to be considering it for a moment, her voice low as she spoke. "I… am not sure. The hero in stories is always ever so resolute to their own fate, but that's only because whoever is writing them has destined them for death, for sacrifice. Is that any different than me?"

The Inquisitor struggled to sit up, if only to recline back on her elbow. "Is the Maker not the one who pens my book, to be cast aside at the end for the good of us all?"

"The Maker has many plans for us. Though he may decide upon our fate, we're the ones to change it through our lives." Leliana replied. Was she speaking from experience? "I believed the Maker had chosen me, at a time. When the Warden had corrupted the Sacred Ashes, I felt cold. Like he had abandoned me." A stricken expression cast along the spymaster for a moment, staring down at Mercia's pillows.

Did the Maker forget his children?

"Perhaps it was the cold that allowed you to survive." Mercia suggested, gazing down to Leliana's hand at her wrist. She sat up further, covering the older woman's hand with her own. "Like you said, the Maker has plans for us." Was she trying to steer the conversation away from the awareness of their intimacy? She hadn't meant to, and yet it would feel awkward to return to it.

When having taken Leliana's hand, the redhead's gaze had shifted to it. The spymaster stared at their interlaced fingers, and frowned. Was this for the best? Surely not? How had she allowed this for so long? Her mind said no, but her heart…?

"You seem conflicted, Sister Nightingale." Mercia gently teased, lips quirking into a weak smile. She pried her gaze from the elder's face, glancing around the tent. It was still so dark; Middle of the night or perhaps very early in the morning? She wasn't sure she could get to sleep again, and yet her weary body begged for it.

With so much having happened in the past few months, she had struggled so much. Whenever it came to sleeping, it simply felt impossible. Mercia would close her eyes, yet an hour later, she was still awake.

With this title spoken, Leliana's attention was fully upon her once more. She opened her mouth, as in to say something, then closed it.

Had she changed her mind?

"Leliana?"

"I don't understand. Blue locked with green, Leliana keeping their gaze set. "What is this between us? What does this mean? I know you aren't oblivious to this, yet I'm still confused."

"I…" Mercia gave a soft sigh, smiling up to her. "You are letting me in close to you, for whatever reason it's yours completely. Me wanting to be close to you, however… Leliana, I find you captivating."

Perhaps… this was her younger self coming back to bite her, Leliana wondered? But it was… different this time, wasn't it? But how, other than the Inquisitor not being- "How so? Captivating?" She was no Andraste.

"You're… beautiful. Soulful, devoted to prayer even with your doubts of the Maker." Mercia seemed to have trouble describing it exactly, forcing herself to sit up completely. "I know you would do anything to further this goal, our goal. The Inquisition would not be the same without you."

The bard broke their gaze, thinking more so. Perhaps her younger self would've had an innocent outburst. But this wasn't the case. Instead, she wet her lips, and regarded the younger woman once more. "Thank you, but-"

"But you don't find me the same? Or, worse, you do but your position of duty would make it impossible?" Mercia took the pseudo-rejection lightly, letting go of Leliana's hand. "Either way, it's fine. I don't think I would have been the right person for you even if the circumstances allowed it."

"Do not assume that-" Leliana's voice had lifted a harsh note, eyebrows knitting in stress. With an interruption, her head shot to the tent exit.

"-Sister Nightingale?" An agent questioned from outside.

Passing a momentary glance down to Mercia, Leliana rose. Her expression bore confusion, but she pushed it aside. Smoothing out her appearance, she headed to him. " _Yes?"_

Mercia lingered on the floor, cheeks feeling hot. Had she… ruined her chances, or just made herself look foolish. She waited, not able to hear the whispering between the spymaster and her agent. No doubt it concerned her, or at least, their team.

" _Giants… - fewer now… - another route."_

Was it safer now?

A few minutes later, the spymaster returned. She allowed the material to brush past her shoulder as she entered. With this, she stood still, and absently fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve.

"Mercia."

"Huh? Oh, yes? Is everything alright?" Mercia gingerly sat up again, one hand to her head. The bandages were getting a little loose from all of her squirming. She kept them tight, palm holding them together.

"With relationships…" The bard murmured, clasping her hands together tightly in front of herself. "I would always jump into the deep end. To end the Fifth Blight, I had joined the… _Hero_ of Ferelden without a second thought. Then, I didn't have the time to pause and think. I am so unsure of everything."

"We have time." Mercia smiled, beckoning her closer. "Could you fix my bandages, please? Lay your thoughts out verbally, you may feel better." Mercia braced a free hand at her side, keeping herself up.

They no doubt had hours before the sun would rise, and more before they were exploring again. They could spare at least one or two simply talking.

Inching across the small space, the spymaster halted by her. Hesitating, she allowed her arms to drop by her sides. "About what?" She mostly played along, sinking back onto her knees. She leaned behind the Inquisitor, gently undoing the bandages.

"Oh, the weather; How the sun creeps through the leaves of the trees in this place." Mercia teased back as well, chuckling. She stiffened a bit to the close proximity, closing her eyes. "Or, most likely, what we were discussing. I promise you that we have time to… figure it out."

The bard hummed thoughtfully, adjusting the poultice back into position. "I had been expecting you to take fancy in the ambassador." It was truthful for what she confessed. "Saves myself from warning you away." She chuckled lowly, imagining the thought.

"Josephine? If I had, I was fully expecting you to warn me from her." Mercia chuckled, wincing when the poultice was smeared along her wound further. "Josephine… She is nice, entirely far too beautiful for someone stuck behind a desk all day. But, she-" Biting her lower lip and feeling her cheeks redden, the Inquisitor spit it out. "She is not you."

"She is far too innocent for her own good. But I'm…" What had she been about to say? "Broken. After the Warden, the Divine…- It's tiring to continue hoping."

"It is." Mercia agreed softly, leaning back against Leliana. Without the tightness of the bandages, her head started to throb again. "But hope drives us on, even when everything seems against us. If love cannot be found in such a place, can it ever be?"

"Love finds us at the strangest of times." The bard smiled weakly. "Whether intentionally, or accidentally." Was this the latter for their situation? Or was it intentional? She… Leliana didn't know how to feel. She felt her mind parroting these questions. "Love is fragile, but so powerful. It manipulates us into believing something we might not necessarily agree with."

"But…" Tightening the bandages gently, Leliana leaned away from Mercia. We should sleep, no? You should get as much energy as you can for tomorrow." Or was it already tomorrow?

"We should sleep, yes." Mercia was greatly confused by the conversation, but was sure sleep would fix it. Could there be something with Leliana? "Thank you for staying up with me, and for dealing with my wound." The younger smiled, feeling exhaustion creep in deeper.

"And I apologize if I stained any of your clothing."

"Armour can be repaired, and upgraded. A life isn't a suit of armour." The redhead commented, easing from the younger woman. She brushed down her cotton shirt, noticing specks of blood upon it.

Taking no mind to it, she silently smiled to the Inquisitor. "You aren't wanting me to move closer, are you?" She teased, heading towards her own bed.

Mercia flushed, chuckling lowly. "Oh, you're teasing me. What if I said yes?" The younger cocked a brow, her smirk stretching the scar along her cheek.

"Stretching your luck, Inquisitor? Let's hope you play this game properly." Leliana regarded. Slipping back into the cooled blankets of her bedroll, she sighed. "You should know that while a bard may sing pretty graces, she always does so with a dagger up her sleeve."

"There's no dagger up your sleeve, Leliana. I _definitely_ would have felt it holding your hand earlier, no?" Mercia commented, settling herself to lie fully. Her head felt better, but it would need more time to heal completely.

"A sleeve dagger is a bard's ticket to _the game_. It doesn't mean I physically have one." A tone of amusement trailed from the elder, Leliana resting onto her back. "A bard is many things. A silver tongue who can destroy you with words alone. I look forward to seeing how a Free Marcher plays it."

Mercia's chuckle was low, but amusement danced within it nonetheless. "A lesser noble would tell you to put that tongue to better use, but I would never sink so low as to give such vulgar innuendos." Staring up to the tent's ceiling, the Inquisitor smirked faintly. "For now, I only wish you sweet dreams… _of me_."

"You may have to work on your flirting, for one."

* * *

 **COLLAB NOTES**

Strangely I, (Wolvetta) dislike this chapter. Don't ask me why, because I don't even know the reason. Perhaps it is because of Leliana, and Mercia's confusion? Oh well. Anyway, Harmonium and myself have chapter 3 almost finished already. We won't release it straight away though, since we're trying to have chapters stockpiled when uploading.

 **REVIEWS**

 **The Sorrowful Deity:** A good one? Is it that Leliana/Inquisitor is rare? I've only ever seen smutty ones looming around. It's a sad thought there isn't more. Without a romance option in Inquisition, it was frustrating. Especially with how much subtext is flying around between Inquisitor and Leliana throughout the storyline. Thanks for the review!


	3. Measured Steps

_**by Twisted Eternal Wolvetta**_

 _ **and Harmonium-Kruger**_

* * *

 **Leliana's Mercy**

 **Measured Steps**

* * *

"And just like that, you recited the chant?" Cassandra questioned, staring at the bard oddly.

They were still camped in the Emerald Graves. Continuing the expedition with Mercia injured was completely out of the question. If they were to be ambushed again, or needed a rift closing, then what? At least here, they had something to do.

"What can I say? She is the one that started it." Leliana's lips twitched, her blue eyes settling upon the Inquisitor. Sat by the central fire with Cassandra, insect life surrounded them. Her ears reacted to the nightlife, but her attention was set on Mercia.

The lightly injured woman was outside with them. But she was unconscious, and in her bedroll. She was a good ten feet or so away, and her back faced them. But even still, Leliana couldn't take her eyes off the sleeping Inquisitor.

"That almost sounds like a comparison." Cassandra cocked a thin brow, glancing from the Inquisitor to Leliana. "Except with you playing the part of Andraste, and her the Maker. As blasphemous as that sounds." She quickly added, crossing her arms. It was clear that the seeker was restless; But surely even she needed a rest after three giants?

The older woman was never content with lying around. Let alone when things required her attention. Leliana was similar in this respect, but they couldn't overwork themselves. This was a rare break due to their situation.

Perhaps their last one had been those hours after losing Haven? "I needed to inspire her in some way." Leliana responded in thought, glancing to Cassandra. "Something is on your mind?"

Cassandra gave a dry smile, shaking her head. "I can't get anything past you." She chuckled, suddenly finding the dirt interesting. "I wonder about you, and the Inquisitor. Yesterday, when I found you and her together. It made me think."

"Think? About what?"

Within this simple camp, Sera was nowhere to be found. Neither woman knew where the human-trained archer was. They could only assume the blonde was nearby. For _what_ she was doing, was another question entirely. But either way, they were given privacy to speak.

"I found the Inquisitor- Merica is much more human than meets the eye." Burning her gaze into the soil by her feet, Leliana paused. She was still in a state of undress, but didn't care for it. Even within the night, the Emerald Graves was an oddly humid location.

"This place is so opposite from Skyhold." Leliana commented, chuckling softly. Cassandra nodded, if not solemnly. There must be more on her mind. "What had you thinking from seeing us? Are you finally going to give into one of your many suitors?" Amusement reigning, Leliana lifted from the crate she sat atop.

The seeker gave a disgusted noise, rolling her eyes. "No." She firmly spoke, uncrossing her arms. "But… does that mean you two are-?" She perked her brows, nudging Leliana gently.

"I don't know." The bard smiled either way. "She agreed to go slowly. Perhaps mainly for my sake?" Exhaling, she skimmed fingers though short, red strands. "I'm not sure what to think, or do."

"You and the Inquisitor…" Cassandra spoke lowly, gaze returning to the unconscious woman. Her lips pursed into a tight line before she sighed; Cupping a cheek with one hand. "Perhaps it is time that I do consider a suitor, if you are getting involved with someone?" She teased, though seemed at least half serious.

But who? Cassandra couldn't take her family, and royalty seriously for even a moment. Being a seeker had always been her life. From her childhood training, to her involvement in the Seekers and Inquisition, she never would. Least she assumed- or _hoped._

"You are too stubborn, Cassandra. Do you still refuse the company of women, even though-" Having a pointed stare shot at her, Leliana grinned.

"Even though, what?" Cassandra immediately went on the defensive, narrowing her eyes. She sat back, squaring her shoulders as she stared Leliana down. There was a faint nervous tingle on the nape of her neck; Had Leliana… noticed something, seen something?

"I wonder what it is? I cannot answer that, Cassandra."

"I didn't-"

Floating away from the seeker, the redhead smiled, shaking her head. Instead, she headed towards Mercia who was still knocked out cold. Kneeling by the brunette's side, Leliana rested against her knees.

The sun was beginning to rise, and she felt Mercia would want to wake soon. Still gloveless, she cupped a palm to the Inquisitor's forehead. The notion brushed strands of hair away from the younger's closed eyes.

Instead of being cold, the Inquisitor was now too warm. Her forehead was almost hot enough for a fever. Frowning, Leliana leaned over the Inquisitor, reaching for a filled bowl.

Cassandra watched them, almost compelled to compare them to one of the scenes in that dreadful romance serial. It was so terrible; The writing cliched and characters interchangeable, but… It was magnificent. If Varric were here, the seeker had no doubt he would be writing furiously.

Could the poultice have failed? Perhaps an infection? Leliana dampened a cloth in the bowl, wringing it out to not be sopping. Gently, she folded the fabric and draped it along Mercia's brow.

"Do you recall the last time she ate?" Leliana spoke suddenly, though Cassandra wasn't startled.

The seeker furrowed her brows, unable to recall. "It must have been… the day of her injury, surely? That morning?"

"Hm… When she got sick, it was just all bile." Leliana curled her top lip, mostly in concern. Was the pain of the Mark causing Mercia to be unable to eat, or had she just not been hungry?

There were so many questions, and they all demanded the Inquisitor to be awake. "Perhaps I am simply worrying too much." Leliana quietly confessed, chuckling to herself. She would remain by the downed woman's side, soaking the cloth when it dried.

If it was indeed the case the Inquisitor wasn't eating, how had she been fighting? A diet was so important when it came to combat. Now it seemed Mercia was falling ill. "How much did we get from those bronto carcesses?" Leliana asked over towards Cassandra.

Her agents weren't currently in the area, having been sent to scout. For the time being, with only having one encampment, they had low supplies. Their stockpile only consisted of one chest. But if they had any food produce, it would be found there.

"A dozen leather. I do believe we have some meat from them." Cassandra supplied from her own crate by the fire. "But I do seem to remember it is far too tough to do anything worthwhile."

An expression cast along the seeker's face. Her family had always adored the exotic, but bronto? _Far too fatty, and tough. It is overly expensive for no reason._ They would say. Shaking her head, Cassandra rose, and headed towards their camp inventory.

"If you simmer it long enough over a fire, it softens. Perhaps a stew?" Leliana advised, humming to herself. Would Mercia be able to eat that? She could strain it into a more suitable soup, if need be.

Cassandra gave a chuckle, opening the chest. "That is possible… You can imagine why we could never have done that before." The seeker commented, checking the amount. "We should have enough for a few days of no hunting, for everyone." She speared a thick slab of the meat, smoothing a table cleare as she began to cut it.

"If you prepare a pot for the camp, I will make a smaller portion for the Inquisitor. She should take it with elfroot." Leliana suggested, and the older woman hid a smile.

"Of course." Cassandra wasn't exactly a stranger to cooking for their troops, but bronto? It was tedious, and took too long. But, that is all they had. She would make do.

"Leliana, whatever became of those other brontos?" Cassandra inquired suddenly. "They were charging towards the Inquisitor. Did you…?"

"Scare them away?" Leliana finished with a smirk, glancing over her shoulder. "Perhaps they just didn't appreciate arrows blinding them." The spymaster chuckled, replacing the cloth on Mercia's brow.

Cassandra shared the brief chuckle, shaking her head. She began to cut the thick slab of bronto meat into smaller chunks, eyes on the other two. "You are formidable in battle, Leliana." The seeker spoke, settling the meat into a grand pot. She snatched another slab to cut, careful with the knife.

"I've rarely had to step into combat physically, with my agents at my disposal. I had forgotten just how… exhilarating it could be." Leliana's lips twitched into a smile, absentmindedly petting messy locks on Mercia's brow.

Honestly she missed it so. The rush of combat was something she had always secretly held interest to. Once she held strongly onto something, almost nothing could stop her. "The bow, dagger, and poison are my forte. If an enemy isn't reachable by arm, just fire."

"For some time, I thought hiding in the shadows cowardice." Cassandra admitted, though Leliana didn't seem surprised. The seeker continued, filling the black pot until it was almost full. "But, I see now just how clever it is. How ruthless it can be. I've grown to admire you, very much."

Leliana smiled to that, glancing over. The elder woman was now filling a smaller pot, this one just for the Inquisitor. The chunks were smaller; More water than meat to fill it.

An exhausted sigh sounded by Leliana's side. With her attention snatched from the seeker, Leliana glanced down. The Inquisitor shuffled against her bedroll, and pressed her palm atop the damp cloth. With this notion, Mercia slowly awoke; half-lidded emerald eyes drifting to the bard above her.

" _Leliana…?"_ Mercia voiced, inhaling sharply.

"When was the last time you ate?" Leliana's voice took on a harsh edge, and Mercia felt faintly scolded. The Inquisitor stared up to her, confusion overtaking her expression.

" _I… what?"_ She weakly asked, closing her eyes again. Her head was far too hot to be able to focus; A forge behind her eyes threatening to melt them completely. When was the last time she ate…? She suddenly couldn't remember.

" _I…-"_ Closing her mouth, Mercia shook her head slowly. _"I can't remember."_ Clearing her throat, she inhaled again. The air was humid. Frowning, she looked around them, and realised they were outside. Settling her eyes upon Cassandra, she glanced back up to Leliana in further confusion. "I don't feel well."

Her voice was hoarse, and she swallowed tensely. It felt sore, like she was coming down with something. "Great." She grumbled under her breath.

What a perfect time to start feeling unwell.

Leliana furrowed her brows, worry replacing idle anger. "You feel feverish." The spymaster murmured, taking Mercia's hand away from her brow. She draped another damp cloth along her skin, gently holding it there.

"The poultice may have been applied too late; Infection is most likely to blame. We need to draw back to Skyhold." Leliana sighed, glancing to Cassandra. The seeker was done cutting slabs of the meat, and hooked the large pot over the fire.

The smaller portion would need a controlled flame; one dug into the dirt instead of hoisted over. Mercia was offered water, and greedily drank. Her throat throbbed, but the cool of the water soothed her.

"Where is Sera and the others?" The Inquisitor asked after a long pause. She held the waterskin closely to herself, but remained on her back. She had the sneaking suspicion she would feel dizzy again if she sat up. Mercia didn't want a repeat of last night.

Or was it earlier?

"Out." The spymaster spoke, studying the Inquisitor carefully. Leliana still couldn't make heads or tails of this noble.

"Out?" Mercia only faintly smiled, lips pulling down into a grimace again. How long had she been unconscious from whenever she had slept? She vaguely remembered waking Leliana up…

"Well, I'm sure they'll be safe." The Inquisitor murmured, glancing to Cassandra when the seeker came close. The eldest woman grinned wryly to her, starting to dig a small pit for the controlled fire.

"You'll feel better without only bile in your stomach." Cassandra seemed sure, smoothing the dirt inside the pit. She set up the fire, hanging a small pot over it.

"How long will that take?" Mercia wasn't even hungry, or was she? It was so hard to tell when ill. But it wasn't like she could make this her excuse. She'd be scolded either way if she refused.

"Two hours at the most." The seeker eased from the cooking pot.

" _Seeker, get over here, yeah?"_ The three women heard, and looked towards the treeline. Sera had arrived, and strode into the camp with a purpose. Her bow was slung around her shoulders, and she cocked a brow to Cassandra. "Well? We going?"

"But wh-"

"Just _come on_." Dragging the elder woman out of the camp, Cassandra was left spluttering after her.

"That was odd." Mercia murmured, though didn't think much of it. Sera probably wanted to show Cassandra a particularly interesting corpse. Closing her eyes, the Inquisitor grumbled when her side was gently poked.

"Did you forget I was here?" Leliana teased, checking the cloth along her brow. She switched it with a fresh one, watching the prone woman.

"How could I?" The Inquisitor's eyes remained closed, a smile etching along her lips in response to Leliana. "Since it seems we aren't going anywhere, do you have any interesting stories?"

"A bard always has _interesting stories_."

"How about a story for me, then?" Mercia asked, content to rest for now. She felt Leliana's touch ghost over the cloth on her brow; A light caress of her hair here and there.

"I would have told you no, at an earlier time." Leliana's voice was soft when she spoke next, words carrying a soft sigh. "But, I think I will tell you one now."

Pausing, the redhead fell silent. She mused over which story she could possibly tell. It couldn't be anything too… _colourful_ , she felt. At least not until she knew Mercia more. Trailing her gaze up the brunette's face, her lips twitched. "I once pinned Josie's smallclothes to a Chantry board."

"Leliana, either you're a bad bard, or that's not the whole story." Mercia smirked, hearing the redhead scoff softly. She opened her eyes, gazing up to the older woman with amusement.

Leliana considered it for a moment more, her fingers slipping through the noble's dark hair. "To not embarrass Josie so much when she can't defend herself, I'll spare the juicy details."

"Ugh." Mercia playfully rolled her eyes, but attentively listened.

"When I had first met Josie, she was still in schooling back in Orlais." Adjusting herself so she wasn't grounding her knees, Leliana continued. "It wasn't until she became the ambassador, that we were friends. Upon my return to Orlais, she threw me a party. It was somewhat..."

"Bland?" Mercia supplied.

"Exactly that, yes." The spymaster nodded. "By midnight, we had found ourselves in the backstreets." She fondly remembered it, chuckling lowly. "It wasn't that the party was… so bad. It was just so perfectly coordinated, that there was nothing wrong with it; And as such, nothing to complain about."

"Orlesian's do love to complain…" Mercia murmured, smiling faintly. "So, the backstreets? Two lovely young ladies, wandering in the dark?"

"We could handle ourselves and others, of course." Leliana assured with a smirk, stirring the small pot beside her.

"How did you even persuade Josephine to take her smallclothes off in a back alley, then?" The Inquisitor's eyebrows rose. Everyone knew how much of a prude the ambassador could be. "Or am I missing something?"

Leliana chuckled lowly, carefully stirring the pot. Cassandra hadn't yet added the elfroot in, no doubt having been distracted by Sera. Humming in thought for her next words, the spymaster stood to retrieve a sprig and added it carefully.

"As I said, she was very young-"

"And you were a bad influence?" Mercia asked, happy when Leliana returned to her side. She heard the redhead's melodical laugh, watching the older woman closely.

Exactly what had guided her to take fascination in this woman? Mercia felt as if there was a deeper reason implemented. Though the bard had indeed suffered, there was a warmth present. Even now, she knew little of what happened to Leliana. But what would she discover once knowing the spymaster better?

Suddenly remembering something, Mercia's mouth opened, and she frowned. "I met Josephine when I was… no, that couldn't have been her…" Placing the waterskin by the side of her bedroll, Mercia's gaze shifted to the sky.

"Oh? Do tell… I'm sure it could have been her. The Montilyet's attended all of Madame Trevelyan's parties…" Leliana needled, grinning.

Mercia chuckled, struggling to remember what she had been about to say. Was that a deeper problem? "Then it must have been her… Once, in passing, she spilled a glass of wine on me. The look on her face, I'm sure she might've had an heart attack at that very moment." With a grin widening, another chuckle sounded from her lips. "I wonder if she's realised it was me, too?"

"My, I doubt she has put the pieces together." Leliana seemed thoroughly amused, grinning wide before reeling it back. "Allow me to be present when you tease her about it, please. I would _love_ to see the look on her face."

"I'd love to see the look on yours without a veil of fever." Mercia blurted out, furrowing her brows in confusion at herself. Why had she said that? Well… they were somewhat courting, weren't they? Or… it was something close to that, at least.

To see her when she wasn't ill? Leliana paused in thought, contemplating what the younger woman had said. "And when not?"

"When not ill? At the very least, I would be more fun." Mercia gave a tremble, a spike of cold hitting her even through the fever and fire at her side. She groaned, head pulsing again. "Not to mention able to concentrate on you…"

"You're doing well. If I hadn't seen it myself, I would've refused to believe you had been struck by a giant." The spymaster commented. The Inquisitor was lucky she had pulled through with just a light wound and fever. Anyone else would've broken a dozen bones _at least._ "Your luck is remarkable."

Was it luck, or enlightenment?

"Luck? If I have any luck at all, it's surely bad." Mercia was led to sit up by the elder, protesting with weak groans. Her head swam with the changed position, a dull throb claiming her.

"Oh, hush now." Leliana scolded her, starting to gingerly unwrap the Inquisitor's bandages. "You've had the best luck of us, so far." Mercia was rested against her shoulder, poultice being tenderly washed away. The tin with the rest of it was nearby; reapplied once the wound was cleaned.

"I'm not sure what luck is considered anymore. Though I may survive, it always seems outrageous." The Inquisitor grumbled into Leliana's neck. She remained in this position, and enjoyed it whilst she could.

The spymaster smelled of… a distant fragrance. But what was it, precisely? It vaguely reminded Mercia of a wildflower. But there were so many out there. How could she possibly figure out which one it was? _"You smell of… something…"_ She murmured into the bard's slender throat. _"Embrium…? Maybe…"_

Leliana felt her words catch in her throat, Mercia's breath on her neck. She forced the emotion down, wrapping fresh bandages to cover the wound. "Andraste's Grace…" She murmured softly, keeping the younger close to herself for a moment more. "I'm very fond of them, and keep them close with my clothes." Leliana laid Mercia back, having the Inquisitor grasp her shoulder. It paused this motion, and she regarded her fully.

"Andraste's Grace is a wildflower, isn't it…? An uncommon one? Why those in particular?" Did such a scent have a story behind it, Mercia wondered? It sounded as if it did.

"I…" Should she tell her? It wasn't a significant secret, but it was something _personal_. Could she trust Mercia with even the tiniest of memories? "I remember little of my mother, except for her scent. She too had a fondness for Andraste's Grace…" Her lips must have pulled down in sadness, because the Inquisitor frowned as well.

"I'm sorry." Mercia spoke softly, letting Leliana lay her back now. Her head felt just the faintest bit better, and the spymaster stirred the pot once more.

"I was young when she died." The bard smiled slightly. "As you do, I have many memories. Some fond, others monstrous. It's what we do with them that's important." There were many things she regretted in her life. By no means did Leliana regret becoming a bard. But for who trained her, that was another matter. Even with the Warden. Though the negativity overwhelmed her, she couldn't excuse the fact she did good joining.

Though the Warden had failed to do what was right, she stopped the Blight. Leliana _knew_ that she had helped this happen.

"Memories…" Mercia murmured softly. She couldn't agree more.

* * *

Night time had gradually loomed over them. It had felt like an eternity throughout her meal. Yet here she was, being persuaded to sleep.

"Leliana, I've been asleep all day. I'm not tired." Mercia felt as though she was years younger, warding her nanny off from tucking her in. As it was, the situation now almost mirrored it; the older woman trying her best to nudge the Inquisitor down.

"You need to rest. Lie down, if not to sleep, then to at least let yourself be still." Leliana cocked a brow, the two in their tent.

"Says the one who can go freely as she pleases." The Inquisitor droned. Either way, she relented in her struggle against Leliana. Resting her head back, she stared up to the tent ceiling. "It makes me mentally tired just _looking_ at this ceiling."

"If it makes you so tired…" Leliana trailed off and Mercia gave her another look. The older woman chuckled, shaking her head. "I cannot go _freely as I please_." Leliana's voice was softer now, and full of hidden meaning.

"If so, why?" It was a genuine question which the younger woman asked her. Mercia was curious, and she watched her settle. There was a cautious expression upon Leliana's face- of worry, anxiety?

Mercia had the urge to ask her what was wrong. But did she have that right? Anything personal with the spymaster was delicate. The events after Haven proved so.

The Inquisitor stayed silent for a moment, gazing up to Leliana. There was the obvious pain of her past, and the loss of the Divine. But could it be something else? Back after Haven when the spymaster had struck her, had Leliana been comparing her to the Warden? If so… Had she compared her just for her position of power, or also because of the inkling closeness they shared?

Perhaps it was a hint of both? The older woman was so private, and defensive however. Maybe one day, she could get the answer from Leliana?

"I no longer know how to be…" The spymaster drifted, unsure of her wording. "Personal? Even with admitting such a thing, I feel at such a loss. This isn't within my personality, I had-"

"Betrayal and heartbreak; I won't pretend to know either well." Mercia murmured softly, catching Leliana's attention again. "But… I am willing to open myself up to you. You don't have to do the same, not as quickly of course." The Inquisitor paused, wondering if this was already too far.

"When is a moment ever right? When do you know when it is? Even now we, you- I have no idea if the moment is _right_." The spymaster was sat against her bedroll, over the blankets. She stared down to the fabric, her troubled expression deepening. "Do I flee like before, find an answer, or not act?"

Picking her gaze up, she regarded Mercia silently. How should she go with this? This wasn't a party, or a battlefield. Tactics and interlaced poison weren't needed, or wanted.

"Do whatever you want, anything you please. I'd rather you not attempt to fight me, at least not until I've healed up." Mercia tried to joke, sitting up to further gaze upon Leliana. "You're not a prisoner, here. You…" She struggled to find the words, throwing her blankets off to edge to her knees.

From the sudden movement, Mercia felt dizzy and planted a hand into the ground. Eyes on Leliana, she quirked a soft grin. "Your eyelashes… are so pretty. They're like little butterflies… I want to catch them, maybe put them in a jar…"

The expression Leliana had held all but dispersed. She stared blankly at the Inquisitor, trying to understand what she had just heard. Covering her mouth, the bard barely restrained herself from snorting. _"Butterflies?_ What _are_ you talking about- _"_

Mercia grinned, taking Leliana's hands from covering her mouth. Instead, she brushed her lips to the bard's; The older woman stiffening beneath her touch. It wasn't long that the Inquisitor pulled back, swallowing hard. She was glad that Leliana hadn't slapped her…

"I… I'm sorry. That must have just contradicted everything I just said…"

The bard was dangerously close to her. Leliana was frozen in place, her mind clouded. She stared at the younger woman, confused. What had happened? Her lips tingled, their noses barely brushing.

With a hand supporting herself, she stiffened. _"I… I- oh."_

Mercia swallowed roughly, concerned as to what would happen next. Leliana seemed frozen, and it was all the Inquisitor could do not to collapse. "I really… am sorry."

If she had noticed Leliana reaching for her, she would have flinched back. The spymaster's hand caught her collar, and pulled her roughly forward into another kiss. It was deep, and set the ill Inquisitor on fire. It almost felt alike to her mark burning through her veins. Only this time, it felt _good._

The spymaster tilted her head, pushing against her. An arm wrapped around Mercia's shoulders, and a palm cupped her cheek. What… what was-?

As quickly as the second kiss began, it ended. Mercia was left breathless; Her head pulsing in confusion and faint pain. She stared at Leliana, eyes wide and lips quirked into a small smile.

The older woman looked just as surprised; Blue eyes regaining sharpness from being glazed over. Clearing her throat, Leliana let go of Mercia's collar. She sputtered as the Inquisitor fell back, though the younger woman managed to catch herself.

"Are you alright?" Leliana inquired, her voice a pitch higher. Her hands drifted forward, almost as if she was unsure she could control them. "...Mer-"

"I'm fine." Mercia chuckled softly, clearing her throat. Her elbow throbbed from having caught her weight, but that was all. "Perhaps we should just… sleep on this?"

"I.. I think you're right." Leliana's face was a healthy pink, the older woman no doubt surprised at herself. She left Mercia's side after another look of consideration, returning to her bedroll.

Time gradually passed by them, and neither were asleep. If given that choice, she would feel better, honestly. Leliana was on her side, her back facing the Inquisitor. _What was she supposed to do?_ Her heart was _racing_. Yet she was still so unsure! Stiffly, she skimmed her fingers along her lips.

Had this been the right choice? Could she go through all of this? To love? To trust?

Her body had apparently thought so… But, Mercia _had_ kissed her first, despite her earlier promises. It wasn't that Leliana had minded; She had returned the affection after all, and the Inquisitor did seem apologetic.

Perhaps after more time, she could… learn to trust again.

But even so… sighing deeply, Leliana rolled onto her stomach. She would think about it tomorrow…

* * *

Skyhold. The relief she held upon walking back within this fortified castle was amazing. Though she was still ill, she was well enough to get around. So at least she wasn't going to be bedridden.

"Darling, you can't very well be seen with soiled rags on your head." Vivienne's voice made Mercia turn, the mage having a smirk upon her lips. "Never go out without someone who can wield magic, hm?" The older woman clicked her tongue, taking the Inquisitor's arm. "Let's get you sorted, shall we?"

Without another option, the Inquisitor was practically dragged further into Skyhold. Soon, in the tavern, Mercia found herself sitting in a chair on the ground floor.

The inhabitants were ushered out, and eventually, it was just Vivienne, and Mercia.

"Sit, stay." Vivienne ordered, giving a soft chuckle as she approached. "Now then, pray tell me the events that led to your current state?"

"I… We were ambushed by three giants, and several brontos." Mercia shrugged as if it were merely a few wild wolves. "One clubbed me, sent me onto some rocks. Cut my head."

"Have you been feeling feverish, lethargic?" Vivienne set about carefully unrolling the bandages. She scrunched her nose up at the smeared poultice, clicking her tongue again. "What a… charming solution."

"That means it's shit, right?" Mercia crossed her arms, chuckling.

"Quite. It looks as if Sera was the one to mix it." At Vivienne's impeccable eye, Mercia chuckled harder. "It was, wasn't it? Well, at least it stopped the bleeding. I was feverish, though. I may even be now, I'm not sure." The Inquisitor rose a hand to feel her brow. After the private moment with Leliana, she had forgotten all about feeling ill.

"Well, I will fix that in just a moment." Slipping a vial from between her bosom, Vivienne offered it over. A hand still along the wound, magic burned only faintly as skin was stitched back together.

Mercia winced, waiting until the pain left before she drank of the vial. It was small; The deep indigo potion tasted faintly of lilacs but heavily of medicine. Burning and sterile…

" _That_ … was awful." She is careful not to spit, verbally or literally. Given a cup of water after, the taste lingered past her lips and on her tongue.

"Medicine is only sweet when it is a farce, my dear. You should be concerned when I give you anything tasting of sugar or fruit." Vivienne hides a faint smirk again, creating distance between them.

"Oh, that does sound fearful." Mercia teased, putting a hand to her temple. She felt a faint scar, and frowned. She supposed it would join the others. "If you'll excuse me, Madame de Fer, I believe there is a briefing I'll need to attend about the Emerald Graves."

"Of course, darling. Try not to get your head caved in next time? Or in the very least, fetch a mage, hm?"

* * *

"Though the Emerald Graves was cut short, we gained considerable information for its geography."

" _Geography which states the place is dangerous?"_ Mercia muttered under her breath, though a smile threatened to blow her cover.

"... There are many split factions within this location." Leliana continued, glancing to the Inquisitor. Had she heard her? Her eyes narrowed as if to answer this, and returned to studying her notes. "Red templar activity is heavy within the Emerald Graves. My agents report they are concentrated close to ancient, elven ruins."

Mercia crossed her arms, gazing down upon the map. She was only minorly distracted, picking up a piece that represented an agent. Who had requisitioned these? Yet, she already knew, didn't she?

No doubt it was Josephine. Setting the agent back where it was, Mercia picked up another doll. "Is this one me?" It was black in colour like the others, but had a unique difference. It was the only type of its kind too, so surely?

"It is." Cullen spoke, looking between her and Leliana for a moment. There was a subtle tension within the air, though nothing seemed different. Had something happened, he wondered? Straightening, he never removed his grasp from his sword. "My forces report Orlesians within the area. The Emerald Graves remains heavily uncharted; It's our duty as the Inquisition to explore and categorize the surrounding areas. If not for the fact it may become a battleground in the time to come, but also to spare pilgrimage in some of the worst areas."

"To do that, we'll need to expend a lot of forces." Mercia spoke up, raising a hand to her temple. The scar there was traced, and the doll likeness of her was placed back on the map. She nudged it with a finger, until it sat over Skyhold.

Josephine was watching her intently, quill hovering over her checkboard. Quickly lowering her hand, the Inquisitor cleared her throat. "We can set up campsites for our agents, and do a clearing sweep."

"Preferably I would dodge the giants, but…" Directing her eyes to the Orlesian map, Mercia paused. "Could we trap them somehow?"

"Trap a giant? That would require more resources than just killing them outright." Leliana argued, clasping her hands behind her back. "They do not contribute to the ecosystem; if anything, they destroy it."

"Such creatures are vicious and enjoy killing." Josephine agreed, turning to Cullen for his opinion. The man furrowed his brows, humming as he rose a fist to cradle his chin.

"They are rather hostile…" He agreed after a moment, the three advisors looking to Mercia.

"Judge overruled?" Mercia cocked a brow, seeming more amused than she had been before.

It seemed their main concern once creating camps was wiping out the giants altogether. But did they have the time and resources for this? Would her advisors even allow her to take part in this? Given she had been injured by one already, her luck was cut out.

"See if we can come up with a quick way to eradicate the giants; A poison trap perhaps? Bait and poison…?" Mercia rubbed her chin, nodding to herself.

"The giants are rather dim. They would eat anything." Leliana agreed, Josephine writing the order down.

"That'll have to be some poison to kill them outright." The Inquisitor mused. "The only thing strong enough I can think of is dragon venom. Nobody is insane enough to try and harvest such a material, I don't think." Though she _did_ question Iron Bull.

"With the more dangerous plantlife from various areas, I'm sure we can come up with something." Leliana chuckled lowly, no doubt already plotting.

Mercia gave a half-grin, nodding. "Mm, then we shall see what comes up. Until then-" She gazed down upon the map. "Perhaps a few days to recuperate."

"Until then, you should rest." Josephine remarked, angling her checkboard further against the crook of her arm. Scribbling more information down, she gestured to Leliana instead. "The Inquisitor is stubborn. I'm sure you will contend with her?"

"The Inquisitor is still here." Mercia teased, crossing her arms as she chuckled. Leliana hid a smirk, shaking her head as she stepped closer to Josephine.

"I will contend with her." The spymaster spared a glance to Mercia, the noble woman giving a huff. "Even though her wound is healed, there are no doubt other areas in which to watch over."

"I am a fully grown woman, not a mabari pup. Talking about mabari, when are we getting some?" The thought had crossed Mercia's mind before. They were in a heavily fortified castle. So surely warhounds would be a recommendation? "Or doesn't our ambassador like dogs?"

"Mabari are…" Josephine cleared her throat, glancing to Leliana. The spymaster seemed thoroughly amused; A smirk playing along her lips. "They are… _big_. They _stink_."

"So does The Iron Bull, but we keep him around." Mercia blinked, watching the Antivan woman stifle a laugh by covering her mouth.

"W-with so many guests of _refined_ backgrounds-" Josephine stuttered to a stop, sighing. "Fine, we will look into getting some pups." She succumbed to the defeat, and Mercia's grin.

"Perhaps Lady Montilyet would take advantage of a personal warhound-"

"Absolutely not, Ser Rutherford." Turning away from the only male in the room, Josephine caught eye with Leliana. "Why are you laughing?"

"Oh, come on Josie… I think you would like a dog. Perhaps not a mabari, maybe one of those little ones that are all the rage in Orlais? I saw a fine lady carrying one in her bag." Leliana wheedled, grinning when Josephine paused with a considering look.

Mercia watched with joyous amusement, crossing her arms. "I'm sure we can accommodate that. Now, if there's nothing else?" Nodded to be dismissed, Mercia edged from the war room.

Without much of an option for anything else, Mercia halted once exiting. Sighing, she brushed her fingers through her hair, thinking. Now what was she doing? It was too early to sleep, nor did she feel like doing so.

But being back at Skyhold, and not risking her life was certainly a nice feeling. It had been nothing but chaotic work for the past month or so. Mercia felt she definitely did deserve this short break.

Perhaps a hot bath was in order, later? Mercia clasped a hand to the nape of her neck, rubbing gently. Hearing the door open behind her, the Inquisitor turned.

"Stiff muscles?" Leliana cocked a brow, passing her. On her way to the rookery, perhaps? That's the only place she ever saw the elder, after all.

"More considering what to waste my time on. Are you going to the rookery?" She questioned Leliana, the redhead nodding in response. Following after her unceremoniously, she continued. "Mind if I follow you then?"

"I assumed you would anyway." Leliana teased, glancing over her shoulder. "But no, I don't mind." She led the way up, listening to Mercia's steps for any balance issues.

If there were any, it was only because the Inquisitor was trying to step exactly where her spymaster did. "I remember your words about the floorboards…" Mercia admitted, one hand on the railing.

"There are a few loose floorboards. But nobody has fallen through them yet."

"That's… reassuring?"

With the crows flocking the spymaster, Mercia took a step back. The animals hopped atop the railings, and onto the elder's arms and shoulders.

"They love me fiercely." Leliana chuckled softly, listening to the trills of the birds. She let them have a moment before gently wafting them back to the air. Mercia watched them all, freezing when one landed atop her head.

The crow screeched, and she jumped. Without a given word from Leliana, the bard softly laughed, approaching her. Offering an arm for the bird, it latched onto the redhead's arm instead.

"Usually Baron Plucky is a terror to anyone except myself. I wonder why…" Shaking the thought off, she sat him against her desk's chair. "Off you go."

"Yes, I can't see why he wouldn't love _everyone_." Mercia sarcastically spoke, eyeing the crow. Did it have red eyes, or was that just her imagination? Leliana gave her a glance, mirth dancing in her eyes.

"He's old and cranky." The spymaster chuckled, petting the bird's head.

"Somehow I almost feel jealous he could have the freedom to feel so." The Inquisitor murmured. "About… earlier."

"By earlier, I assume you mean the moment in the tent?" Leliana asked, glancing up from the crow. She gave him another pet, and gently gestured he go. Baron Plucky slowly gazed upon Mercia, squawking once before flying off.

He was so creepy… Mercia grimaced, stepping closer. "It is. What are you wanting to do about it? About us?"

Honestly, Mercia wasn't even sure what she wanted. Let alone what Leliana wanted.

Leliana stiffened, her back to the Inquisitor. Mercia paused, twiddling her thumbs. "I did say I would give you time; But is that even what you want? Time to consider being with me, opening up to me?"

The Free Marcher was a little confused, from those shared kisses to the almost denial of them. Leliana hadn't mentioned them until now; Did she dare to think the spymaster thought nothing of her?

"I do not… know?" The bard murmured quietly, fingers edging along her desk. She slid a note closer to it, staring blankly at the text. The noble's eyes burned into her back, making her feel all the more uncomfortable. She frowned at the sensation, old wounds dully spiking against her skin.

"Oh." Mercia's voice didn't sound disappointed, rather surprised. "I… am pushing, aren't I? Forgive me. I promised you I would wait, and I will." The Inquisitor strode to her side, to at least be in her visual range.

"If you ever want to… share with me, I won't turn you away. I know that it might take time, but… I'll be here."

"Considerate _and_ charming?" The bard lowered her hood, revealing short hair. Such a sight was gradually becoming a daily occurrence. Such a personality reminded her of herself years ago. Mercia was… innocent in a way. "We'll see."

"That's all I can ask for." Mercia smiled, turning away. She paused, glancing down to the floorboards before attempting to look back. "I only hope that you choose what you _want_ , instead of succumbing to your fears."

"Fear is a complex feeling, no? It drives us to act and believe. I can't say there is fear, but I won't lie, I have felt it." She couldn't understand why it was becoming easy to share these feelings. Leliana could only assume there was… the deepening connection.

"Perhaps I will agree to something. Though for now…?" She inquired, receiving a nod. "Prove yourself."

"Prove myself?" Was that permission to start a courtship? Mercia gave a slow grin, carefully turning to face Leliana again. "Then let it begin." She cheekily bowed her head, waving away a crow set to land on her. "For now, I will let you get back to work."

Wary of the floorboards, the Inquisitor descended from the rookery. Now… how could she spend the rest of her day?

* * *

 **COLLAB NOTES**

Strangely enough we forgot about this story for a while. Originally we thought we had completed the chapter, and put it onto the backburner. But apparently not; anyhow, it's better later than never!

 **REVIEWS**

 **zakhaev13:** I find it cheap with the lack of flexibility that Leliana wasn't a romance option. Though it is understandable with Morrigan. After all she only appeared for a while. I feel there was so much potential for a Leliana/Inquisitor romance, especially for hurt/comfort. With the loss of the Divine, and the possibility of betrayal from the Warden, it's perfect. Though you know what BioWare is like. I don't think they learned much from the backlash of Mass Effect 3.

 **The Sorrowful Deity:** I'm sorry? What are you trying to say? Both Harmonium and I can't understand what you're getting at precisely? A darker version of their personalities? Can you explain?

 **CinderDiamond:** Hahaha, depressing. You might just be onto something with that.


End file.
